


Eye for an Eye

by happyinkflowsforever



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: 18th Century, American Revolution, Arielle Nathan, F/M, Jacobite, Jewish, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:00:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28238121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyinkflowsforever/pseuds/happyinkflowsforever
Summary: "You are to take life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, bruise for bruise."- ExodusIn war no one is left unscathed, untouched by the horrors man can do to their neighbour. The American Revolution is a war of liberty and brutality, of honour and of spies categories that are rarely neat. Arielle Nathan, is a young Jewish heiress whose life is thrown into spin by the British interest in her family. Half Jacobite covert and half Jewish, having travelled in short space from London to New York they represent the cultural identities of Britain's enemies. Over the years of the revolution her girlhood melts in Setauket as she learns to take matters into her own hands, those of love from a youthful infatuation with a British Captain to the love of her life-a Quaker in New York to those with more serious consequences- matters of life and death. It seems the Old Testament will continue to ring true.
Relationships: Abraham Woodhull/Mary Woodhull, Edmund Hewlett/Original Female Character(s), John André/Original Female Character(s), John André/Peggy Shippen, John Graves Simcoe/Original Female Character(s), Robert Townsend (1753-1838)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	Eye for an Eye

_ Her tooth ached.  _

That was the one thing amiss in her mind as she counted over the household gathered in the hush of Sabbath.

The fire crackled, a sign of the early autumn frost making itself known. The wine glasses were well filled, and the dinner was left on the table, eaten, now left to rest to be savoured by the air- not rushed by the normal rhythm of life. 

Turning, she gave a strained smile as she tried to figure out what else could be wrong. Beyond that dull throb in her mouth.

Beyond that tense pulling working within her jaw like the mechanics of an unoiled clock.

It seems nothing.

Her mother was aimlessly drifting her fingers along with the silverware- her hardworking Presybteryian backbone struggling to yield after all these years of Friday nights of rest. Of leaving things as they were. Arielle could already hear the characteristic mutter under her lips, and if she focused hard enough, she could listen to those sounded noises that rung of the Scottish Highlands- a whole sea away. 

Her sister was sitting by the fire, the family dog, rolling by- her aquamarine eyes trained carefully on the pup in case she tried to nip at Arielle’s outstretched heel, or the doll she bounced in her arms. Her focus was delegated to a single matter, unlike her sister, whose contrasting brown eyes continued their superstitious run through of the family parlour. Her father was merry, sitting in his seat with the cushion over his stomach with a hand happily pouring more wine.

Wine or any alcohol for that matter was a medicine during these times.

Nothing was predictable, business may have boomed for now but for how long? When men in red coats and blue coats continued their march?Arielle caught herself. She shall not think of this tonight. Not when she felt like she owed God so much.The least she could do was keep his evening of rest, even if it meant silencing a busy mind.

Her father’s Kippah fell to his shoulder now that his evening prayers were done, and he could continue his secular observance of the world. With a final glance to the two candles that flickered in the window sill, spaced to appear like ordinary candles, not a religious observance, it was clear- all was in check.

So, she turned her mind inwards, reflecting on this family of hers. ‘A strange lot we are, she mused, ‘Oh yes, the strangest lot I have ever seen.’ Affection bubbled in her chest as she thought about it. “We Nathans always bet on our own drum” that's her father’s statement, and her mother’s Baynes would have no qualms in that statement either.

It was ironic.

Her mother with her long dark tresse—deep brown near black and wild with tight ringlet curls matched by her olive tinted skin, or the deep almond set eyes that appeared brown at first but on closer inspection were deep green. Like serpentine, they were like deep pools of dark green water; All owing to a Sicilian grandmother whose mark was apparent in the fact that her name was Giulianna before she gallicised it to Julienne.

Yes, it was ironic that this woman with such Medterrinain appearances, was the one with a rolling Scottish accent and an aversion to all things heavily spiced or hot,with the love of Christ. She was the Jacobite Presbyterian.

It was Ironic.

Her father, the Jew, had fair skin with blue eyes that, when unstressed, looked like the fine sapphires that he occasionally traded. His hair, although now fading, was the exact depiction of waves, each strand cascading with a distinct shade of honey blonde.

The difference in religions was strange enough, let alone their appearances; despite their creed, or lack thereof, for Christ. But despite their appearances, they had many a thing in common.Mainly an ability to assert themselves and to adapt. How else did one survive moving through the British Isles, trading posts from the North Sea, then to Thessaloniki, only to endup in New York- a city under occupation- with their wealth intact and their eyes focused firmly on the future?

What future that was, she was unsure. Arielle had no brothers, only herself and her younger sister, Maja. She was the heiress, with her looks suiting those that one drunk dinner guest called “La Belle Juive” or The Beautiful Jewess as if it was an anomaly. She and her sister had inherited her father’s fair skin, herself having an ashen blue undertone complexion aided by borderline anaemia. Her sister, however, inherited his blue eyes and blonde hair, that faded into a dark blonde, like some Germanic fae child. 

Arielle had brown eyes that were chestnut flickered with amber, her father claimed like her paternal grandmother. Her hair was curly- ringlets like her mothers and a combination of both parents, a sable brown that her mother used to wash in lemon juice to bring out the natural gold strands. She wondered how much that routine cost, remembering summers lied by a basin as her hair was rinsed over and over- so her mane would pick up the sunshine like a halo, or at least that was the poetic reasoning her mother would give. Julienne would still claim that under the scrutiny of a candle or the intensity of the summer sun, these strands would come back. 

Her jaw ached, ending her examination of her appearances.Before she could dissect what made her such an abnormal Jewess,there was a sharp knock on the door that echoes throughout the silent house.

It rang out once, twice, thrice harmoniously with her jaw. 

“Mr Woodhull! By God, sir, come in.”

Her father’s below was one of surprise and warmth, always pleased to be distracted by company. 

Mother and daughter both glared at the door, at who dared disturb their domestic tranquillity.  _ How strange _ , this older gentleman made his way inside his face red from cold. 

“What a surprise sir, ignore the supper table. It is not the custom to tend to such things on Friday nights.” 

Arielle could predict that in any minute now, her mother would start tiding the plates of soup and braided bread. The man was an acquaintance of her father's, a magistrate from some rural town on Long Island,who discussed a legal matter and the price of cabbage to her father one night in an inn. Daniel decided the man was too proud to come in the beginning for trade, so, he occasionally invited the magestriate to join his various groups for the playing of cards, holding court so it was evident that Mr Nathan was still a lion of a man and would not be duped, never so much as lifting a card. 

Arielle had never met him.

“My apologies for coming so late-” 

“Sit, I shall pour you a glass of Port.” Then as if an afterthought, he motioned towards the girls,“My daughters, Arielle being the oldest.” She rose to her feet and made a delicate half curtsey of greeting self-conscious of her untied hair as she did so. “And Maja,” Maja, restrained the dogas the older stranger’s eyes drifted to the younger girl, looked upon him a gentle smile of little interest- the key traits of an introverted child. 

Richard Woodhull was a man of opportunity.

A man who always had an ear to the wall, seeking some way to benefit his family be it through security, finances, or morally. His son, Abraham, would scoff at the latter, morality under Richard’s eye was a surface level affair that often came as an afterthought, a justification. Opportunity of many kinds is what brought him in this doorway. 

Out of breath and struggling to compose his dignity, the man stood with a letter against the breast of his jacket. A respectful nod was given to both daughters as his mind was running the numbers. The eldest girl, wide eyed and curious, was the one in question. 

“I am afraid I can not enjoy your hospitality this evening,” he began. 

With a lamented pause he held out the letter in front of him, sealed by the King’s emblem. The girl took it from his hand and as she began to undo it- the mother took it from her.

“Now Mr Woodhull, I am sure you can explain more than offering letters,” questioned Daniel. 

“His Majesty’s representatives in New York might have made a troubling decision that may affect your family”

“Might? This is a decree!” Julienne snapped, finishing the page.

“What is it? Mama?” Arielle demanded, her eyes darting between the three of them- the trouble of youth so desperately wanting to be among the old. She was ignored.

“I demand an explanation Mr Woodhull,” cried Julienne.

“And an explanation you shall have,” His voice started hard before soothing down. “As you well know many of your community members,” based on the pinched look on their faces he expanded “,both Hebrew and Preysbteryian, have been overwhelmingly in favour of disposing our King.”

“How does that affect us?” asked Arielle, Richard could already tell she would be an inquisitive creature. Daniel had taken the letter and his glasses- trying to process the decree. “Under the watchful eye?” he read aloud, scoffing at the elder man. 

In Arielle’s mind she at first jumped to exile. That had been the story of her ancestors for centuries, the Nathan’s had gone from Judah to Rome to Lebanon to Spain and to Portugal all hinging on some decree. This must be the same. It was the only logic that gripped her heart. The ancestor’s anxiety paced through her as she began to think about stories of burnings, pogroms, the horrors of Goa and all these being recent. Did the situation get so bad in the colonies that “Enlightened England” decided to exile her people? Presbyterianism didn't make as much sense but the faith of Scotland that links to the Jacobites must have been clear enough to warrant some punishment. Exile was not wrong, just not how she thought about it. 

Done with drawing things out, with gaging their reactions Richard continued through with rural bluntness. “It has been decided as your family has strong connections to both communities, to traitors within them, that the family shall be monitored,” he gestured to Arielle. “It states that your eldest child is to be placed with an officer’s family to ensure loyalty.” 

“How have we not been loyal!” yelled Daniel shattering any further attempt at politeness. 

“Trust me, I understand- they originally asked for both children but I convinced them to leave the youngest Miss Nathan for her health.” 

“Where am I to go?”

Now quiet, now heard. 

“You are to come to Setauket, Long Island with me in three days time. The Major of Setauket boards with my family, and you shall be under the care of my daughter-in-law, Mary.” He continued on bravely, “Originally they were going to send you to Quebec under the care of Guy Carlton, then they decided upstate to New York under a Swiss mercenaries family. I managed to convince them otherwise; Long Island is safer than the Connecticut border or the Canadian, and it is only a few hours hard ride to New York, or a day at leisure.” The so-called favour he had done was made clear, “Your family has always been good to me, and as tensions mount in New York who are acting with less rationality.” 

“For how long?” Arielle inquired, 

“I can not say,” he replied, “But I do not imagine for long, Miss. A few months at least, simply to settle the concerns. By spring you will be back in New York, or by the latest, mid summer. I do not think Major Hewlett would oppose the odd visitation either.”

Less rationality was a lie, Arielle knew her family and their whig leanings. Her mother caught between fondness for the old and a hatred of anything Hanovian happily joined her husband in their preference for whig policies. They advocate for the enlightened rights the family adored so much. The idea of no state religion, of rights to commerce and emancipation. The only exception being that outside of taxes and wars the Tories had decent budget management. Her family played with the idea of a new nation but decided a cover of loyalty, to hedge one's bets and enjoy people for how they came was the best. Too many had been touched, and it seems now the touch had come to her, causing her ears to pulse with blood. 

Her mother’s hand was on her shoulder, gripping tight for life, as if he was going to snatch her child from her then and there. Her eyes were dark, and her mouth unmoving while her father had stood to his feet in a rush. “Who signed this? Who declared it?”

“Sir Clinton and his majors, it was through my trade with Captain Cooke that I found out and was able to sway their decision.” 

The port remained untouched, as he stood, making his brief farewells. The family was too gobsmacked to say a word. 

“Goodnight, I shall be back on the 16th” 

_ Pain, her tooth cried out.  _

  
  
  



End file.
